The Fire of Friendship
by only-some-loser
Summary: Mac's hands and Jack's feet are burned, but they're both okay, and that's all that really matters. (tag to 2x14, Mardi Gras Beads Chair)


**AN: This is the thirty-fifth installment of my personal challenge to write a tag for every episode. This is a tag to 2x14, Mardi Gras Beads + Chair. it takes place towards the end of the ep, when Mac goes in to save Jack and directly after he does. In general, I like it. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!**

* * *

Mac didn't think he had ever been more scared in his life. If he didn't move as quickly as he possibly could, Jack was going to die, and it was going to be a painful death. Crashing the car into the wall was stupid, especially since he didn't know how badly it would injure him and how many assailants he would have to face upon getting out of the car, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was saving Jack. He didn't know what he would do if the man died. It would destroy him.

Breathing heavily, Mac rammed the car into the wall, engaging the emergency features of the crematorium as well as the airbags of the Cadillac. The impact hurt like hell, and he would likely have some hefty bruises the next day, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Before Mac could pull himself out of the car, he was dragged out and tossed on the ground by the men who had paid the million dollars for Jack. The men were all pointing their guns at him, but there wasn't anything Mac could do about it. If they shot him, Jack would die too, but he couldn't stop them. All he could do was pray.

Luckily, within two seconds, praying worked. A SWAT team swooped in and provided the distraction Mac needed to get away and get into the crematorium. He started yelling to Jack, who thankfully replied. That was good, it meant he hadn't passed out and was still alive. But how was Mac supposed to get him? Jack was trapped inside a coffin that was on fire, and time was running out.

Doing the only thing he could think of, Mac braced himself for the pain and grabbed the coffin with his bare hands. The adrenaline helped him to push the pain of the flames aside and pull the coffin out, then off the table. Jack quickly crawled out of the broken coffin, his sleeve on fire. Mac put it out with his hands once again, and resisted the urge to pull Jack into a fierce hug. He couldn't believe he was still alive. Jack was okay, he wasn't dead.

Not thinking about it, he went to meet Jack's fist with his own, only to fall to the ground, screaming in pain, as the adrenaline faded and the burns made themselves fully known.

"Mac!" Jack called out, falling to his knees beside his partner. "What happened? What's wrong?" he asked, his own hands hovering over Mac, as if he were afraid to touch him and possibly cause more pain.

"My hands," Mac got out between moans of pain. He was holding his hands close to his chest - they were shaking.

"Let me see," Jack said gently, slowly bringing his hands towards his partner's. Mac moaned again and pulled his hands away from Jack, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. "I'm not gonna touch them, I promise," he said, just as gently as before, but with a slight pleading edge. This did the job, and Mac hesitantly opened his eyes and slowly held out his shaking hands to Jack. They were burned very, very badly. "It's gonna be okay, buddy. We're gonna take care of your hands and they'll be good as new."

Mac only nodded in response, pulling his hands back to his chest. He remained where he was on the ground, curled up on his side. Jack's hand came to rest on his shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I wish I had some contact solution," Mac muttered. That would do wonders for his hands.

"What?" Jack asked. His ministrations abruptly halted in his confusion.

"Helps burns," Mac replied. He was focused on breathing through the pain and getting to a point where he could actually stand and go get help for them. Jack needed to be checked out too. "Are you okay?" he asked, pain still clear in his voice.

"My feet are a little singed but it's nothing like your hands. Walkin' might be a little painful, but we need to get you help," Jack replied. At least it wasn't worse. Frankly, it was pure luck that Jack wasn't any more badly injured.

Mac nodded. "We both need it," he admitted. Mac took a deep breath, and steeled himself. Slowly, he rolled onto his knees, and stood, his hands still shaking and held up to close to his chest. He needed to compose himself before they left the building. Mac knew he couldn't hide the intense pain from Jack, but he didn't want everyone in all of New Orleans to see how much he was hurting.

"It's okay, kiddo. Matty probably has an ambulance ready and waiting for us, knowin' how she knows our penchant for physical injuries," Jack said with a smile, clasping Mac's shoulder. He kept his hold on Mac's shoulder as the two began to slowly walk out, Jack limping with every step. Mac could hear him hissing in pain, and felt even more guilty that he hadn't gotten there faster. He shouldn't have even hesitated to use his bare hands to pull Jack out, he should have done it immediately once he ran in. Yeah, it would've only been a few seconds difference, but still, those few seconds could have saved Jack from more pain. "Thank you," Jack continued, interrupting Mac's inner beatdown. "I would be dead if it weren't for you, so thank you, kid."

Mac sighed. "I should've been faster. This never should've happened," he said, turning to look at Jack. The two stopped where they were, Jack still clutching Mac's shoulder for that little bit of extra support.

"You couldn't have prevented this, Mac," he said, shaking his head. "If you had been with me when they took me and Dawn, they would have either killed you or taken you with us. The first option is something I never wanna even consider, and the second wouldn't have helped me either. They would've left you with Dawn when took me away, if they even let you live. So we got the best possible scenario with you not being with me when they took us. It is only because of that that I am alive right now, are you hearin' me? You saved my life, bud, and I'll take some burned feet over no feet any day of the week," he finished with a smile. "Now let's go get some intact resolution for your hands."

"It's contact solution, but thank you," Mac said, his mind slightly more at ease because of Jack's words. The man always knew what to say to calm him down. "And for the record, if you die, I'll kill you."

Jack chuckled and started walking again, his hand still clasping Mac's shoulder as he limped. Sure enough, there was an ambulance waiting right outside for them. The two made their way towards it as the paramedics approached them. Mac's hands weren't shaking as much, so he slowly held them out to the paramedics, who breathed in sharply at the sight.

"His feet are the same," Mac said, motioning the Jack. The two sat down on the back of the ambulance, their shoulders touching.

"Not as bad as him," Jack muttered, but still bent down to carefully take off his boots.

"We'll fix you both up," one of the paramedics said with a smile.

Mac prepared himself for more pain. As far as medical attention went, things usually got more painful before they got less painful. He flinched in pain when they took a hold of his hands and began treating them. Mac leaned into Jack more, who gently put one of his arms around the blond's shoulders, providing him that comfort and security that he always craved but never asked for. Each time Mac whimpered in pain, Jack held him a little tighter. He would never be able to tell Jack how much that meant to him.

Jack's feet required some treating as well, but they weren't nearly as bad off as Mac's hands. The worst part about it was that it was the bottoms of his feet, making him unable to walk without pain. But, like they both had said, it could've been much worse.

"Hey," Jack said. "We could be that fable, or parable, about the blind guy and the cripple. You're the blind guy and I'm the one who can't walk," he said with a smile. Mac only looked at him in confusion.

"But my hands are messed up, not my eyes," he replied slowly. Maybe it was the pain affecting his mind, but he couldn't tell where his partner was going with this.

"Yeah but I could hop on your shoulders and be your hands, and you'd be my feet," Jack said, that smile still on his face.

Mac nodded in understanding, saying, "that's a bit of a role reversal, isn't it?"

Jack smiled wider and shook his head fondly, but Mac thought more about what they both had said. Mac was almost always the one building things with his hands and making crazy stuff, but now, he couldn't. Jack would literally have to be his hands for a while. In the figurative sense, Jack was often his feet too. The man would help to direct him and bring him to where he needed to be. He was always there for him. Now that Jack's feet were messed up - his literal ones, not his figurative ones - maybe Mac would be the one to do the directing, especially with Jack's mental state being the way it was regarding Sarah and Diane and now certainly this Dawn woman. But that's what friends did for each other.

Soon enough, Mac's hands were bandaged as well as Jack's feet. They were both glad Riley and Bozer weren't there, because of course those two would be making a lot of smart comments about them. But the pain had diminished due to some really good drugs the paramedics had given them, so both Mac and Jack were mostly back to their smiling selves.

That was the thing about the two of them. No matter what happened, as long as they ended up together and generally okay, they were smiling. They brought out the smiles in each other. Mac knew his life would be completely different if it weren't for the joy that Jack brought to it, and he could never thank the man enough for always showing him the sun.


End file.
